


Know the Hidden Heart of Me

by glamorouspixels



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cuddling, Death Defying Feats, F/M, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Ooops, Sharing a Bed, also smut, like so many feels, s03e01, slightly angsty cuddling?, with FEELS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:53:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22629688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glamorouspixels/pseuds/glamorouspixels
Summary: In which Jack wakes up in Phryne's bed and finds Phryne asleep in a chair.A birthday gift for martinisandart! <3
Relationships: Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 17
Kudos: 194





	Know the Hidden Heart of Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [martinisandart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/martinisandart/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY! <3 I think we've established that I'm the absolute worst at birthday surprises, but I hope this is okay nonetheless because I worked very hard to get it finished while also being in the middle of exams. I hope you have the best birthday ever!
> 
> Also, the title is from _Panadería ~ Pastelería_ by Anna-Marie McLemore, and thank you to acrazyobsession for beta reading!

Jack awoke from a dreamless sleep to darkness pounding on the edges of his mind. Immediately, he tensed; the dark that engulfed him felt foreign, unrecognizable to his experienced eye. It was just a shade too blue, held a gleaming sapphire shine where that of his home was warm and earthy. The very same, he noticed, was to be said about the covers beneath which he rested. They were heavy, embracing his form and storing the warmth of sleep. His own were thinner and cool, and not nearly as lavish. Composed for simple comfort, not long nights leisurely spent. 

It was a pesky hammering at the side of his head that reminded him to be afraid. Still, it sounded distant, and the world felt hazy and blurred where he wasn’t looking. Always trusted and operating on instinct, his muscles tensed, shoulders straightening and back tightening, in case he was required to break into a run. But his thoughts remained murky like the clouded night, appeased by the warmth and quiet that went against any suggestion of danger. 

And then there was the sound of breathing drifting from the corner to caress his ears and soothe his mind. He thought nothing of it, at first, simply enjoyed the clarity of it, of another soul there with him while the stars were bright and the sky was dark. That the occasion hadn’t been his to enjoy for months upon uncountable months came to him in unison with the lingering smell that often haunted his dreams, but left no trace in the world – a scent that often left him aching, for the first time more than in a swirl of forgotten dream. 

He sat, aiming to investigate its source, and his blood spiked hot in protest of the sudden stir, and then again as the fog parted in his mind. Jack felt his heart squeeze in his chest at the scene before him. Hues of moonlight came white-blue from above and in their caress sat Phryne, a thin blanket wrapped around her dreaming form. A book lay in her lap, upside down, the cover sprawled to bask in the gleam. He could see the tips of her fingers gently rippling the flow of fabric, holding it closed around her chest. She'd been reading by the moonlight, Jack realized; now, her eyelashes, fluttering slightly with sleep, veiled her skin in graceful shadows. 

She looked so small, beneath the shine, and he imagined she must be shivering. A rush went through him, his limbs expectant, as though he might bounce to his feet, jump at the opportunity to hold her, the frost draining from her as he gathered her close to his chest. He found no trouble picturing the way her graceful figure moulded against his heart, from her raven head of hair at his jaw to the subtle press of her breasts where his own frame was firm and taut and muscled. 

He was almost off the bed when the pounding in his head made him falter. The previous night’s events began to come to him in trickles, and then all at once, an icy drench of that left his skin goose-bumped and made his body turn to steel. 

He’d never forget the look on her face, remembered the exact moment disappointment replaced the brightly sparkling anticipation, her eyes dulling with their evening plans failed. What was worse, no thoughts rose to support his actions; he knew that whatever her gaze would reveal upon waking, usually sharp with life and lit with challenge, he deserved. 

And yet. Her name was on his lips before he could stop himself, made him flinch with the sharp edge with which it cut the night.

“Miss Fisher?” 

She didn’t rouse. Perhaps the moon was protecting her, its pale streaks and the stardust on her skin glowering at him and guarding her from harm where he had not. His guilt was becoming a monstrous thing, but it was only his to defeat, and he tried to conquer regret with bravery.

“Phryne.” 

“Mmmh?”

When she finally moved, her book dropped to the floor with a thud and her eyes found his, sleepy and moon-washed, but growing sharper by the second. Jack dreaded the moment they'd come into focus, fixing him once more with that fragile look of disappointment that had felt so terribly wrong. 

“What time is it?” With her words came sweet, short-lived relief – he allowed it to swaddle him, one sacred, precious breath before guilt pulled him under with fiery claws. 

“Early morning?” Was his guess as he examined the sky brightly lit in the first hues of flares and embers.

Then came another brief silence and Jack could feel her watching him. Shadowy ghosts of sunlight still danced within his sight, but he was glad for every moment saved from the darkness in her eyes. He allowed the world to go unfocused, pictured Phryne scanning the room, cautious and composed in a way that cracked his heart open. 

He couldn't have said what had possessed him, later, some shapeless hours down the line, when she was curled into his side and their hearts had resumed their steady beat. It might have been her silence, unbearably light, perhaps his own selfishness that sparked the current of his words. Or merely desperation in the face of knowing he could've ruined it all. 

“Would you like to come to bed?” His voice turned hollow toward the end, giving sanctuary to his heart laid bare, beating out the seconds in his ears while all she could do was stare. Even his wildest guess couldn’t foretell what she saw when she studied him; she might just as well have elected the storm in his eyes as the trembling of his hands, and seen in it the ache in his heart or even fear, or the guilt unfurling proudly, swallowing him.

Phryne shrugged. His heart followed her gaze to the night-darkened floor; the moon caught the vagueness of her features before she made ready the hardened mask with which she spun on him. 

Her bitten-out laugh painted a clearer picture of her thoughts, although one that did little to lay to rest his own. And then she fixed him with untamed eyes, and Jack thought he might die of the sharp-edged knife her disbelief sent flying through his heart. “Why? Don't you fear what my constant parade of men might think? Of course, I can fetch my father from the guest room if you so desire his approval.”

Almost painfully, the world stumbled into focus, crushingly, unbearably, bringing his thoughts to a screeching halt. And he knew, with blood-stopping clarity, that she wouldn’t forgive him.

Then why did she unwrap herself, shake off her blanket, and shoot to her feet? By the way she’d shifted as though trying in vain to fight an invisible pull, Jack didn’t think it a conscious decision. But she was by his side before he’d had a chance to react. Now, he saw no choice but to remain completely still as his heart continued to soar in his chest, staining his blood with hopeless guilt. 

Phryne yanked at her night robe almost violently, paying it no mind as it swished into the shadows unseen and undisturbed by her sudden temper. Jack’s wince, on the other hand, was far more obvious and so he was quick to avert his eyes from her silk-soft lingerie and stare intently into the lingering dark ahead. 

So much for his bravery. After all the stir he'd caused, the least he could do was rise to the challenge that it clearly was, accept with open arms whatever way she thought to reach out, knowing full well he didn't deserve it. And the subtle display of her trust didn't even end there – although the fragility of it wasn't lost on him as he watched, keeping completely still in fear she might dissolve – and she brushed the covers aside, climbing next to him onto the bed. 

She was leaning back against the headboard, arms crossed over her chest, and Jack found himself no more assured of her forgiveness than he had been minutes ago. Leaving him to receive her warming presence completely dumbfounded, her blazing gaze was fixed on a point of darkness across the room. The only indication of her mercy was the soft heat of her blossoming against his side where his navy pyjamas touched lingerie and creamy skin. He could all but sense her cursing the path her heart had taken, never pausing to see if she'd follow – as though she had much of a choice. 

Gently, he offered to stir her where her own thoughts couldn't. “Do you want me to leave?” 

This time, when she looked at him, he saw genuine confusion sharpening her eyes. “You know I don't.” She pouted slightly, clearly infuriated by her own realization; Jack barely managed to suppress a chuckle, but she must have sensed it rising warmly in his throat, or at least felt the relaxation of his muscles as she made no move to disappear. 

Phryne shot him an uncertain glance, displeasure and fondness fighting in equal measure for dominance of her features. 

Releasing a tiny huff, she turned and cuddled against him, the motion almost forceful but no less adorable for it. 

In his chest, his heart continued to beat out his tenseness, and with her palm steady through the material of his shirt, he was sure she must have felt it. With her head placed atop her shoulder, Phryne's quiet breathing came warm against his neck. 

"Better?" Phryne asked, her lips brushing his jaw as she looked up at him and making him shiver. Jack's body remained, for another second, frozen before he could hum in response and bring a safe arm around her back. 

Their silence, this time, was one of shared grief and comfort, feeling the weight of what might have been and the gladness to find it avoided. With the same supreme certainty came another, tamer feeling – the gentle dwindling of his ability to let her go. The realization settled over him with the same tenderness as the heat of her body where she was pressed against him. While his hand stroked up and down her back, her own drew tiny aimless patterns into his skin. Despite the frailness of her movements – her fingertips pressed no harder than the tendrils of her breath tingling his throat – her thoughts appeared to be going a mile a minute, running away from him.

Jack, who was growing desperate for her return, seized the first words that leapt into his mouth.

“Who put me in pyjamas?” 

She raised her head off his chest; he could see that her eyes carried a thin sheen of sadness, the hazard of heartache still too near. 

“Mr. Butler, of course. After I undressed you.” Even the lowering of her voice carried a half-hearted note. She was prompt to return to the comfort of his arms, tucking her head beneath his chin. 

What they lacked the words to express, Jack resolved to make up for feather-light touches, a hopeful embrace. His emotions poured into the tips of his fingers to color her skin in tender warmth. 

And so, when he began to rub small circles into the skin of her hip and she sighed quietly, he was assured of the same beat of their hearts, difficult as it was for her to accept it. With Phryne’s body flush on his and heavy silence descending over them, the pounding in Jack’s heart subsided to make room for that in his head and sleep was beginning to sneak up on him. 

“Go back to sleep?” Sliding his fingers just beneath the band of her tap pants, he huddled there to cup the sleep-warmed skin of her hip. 

“I’m not sure I can, Jack.” A slight tremble in her voice, so small, like the whisper of wind on which the first of the sun came to rouse the sleeping souls. It cut through his heart as a scream would have, made him close his eyes and take a deep, steadying breath.

“Here, let me help,” he said, gathering her close to guide her fully on top, cuddled into the front of him and wrapped in the alluring softness of the covers, calling to her with the promise of sleep. All he had to do was draw her within its reach. 

As she reached one hand up to curl around the back of his neck and his own cupped her shoulder beneath the strap of her camisole, the vulnerability of the moment didn't escape him – his heart, having previously slowed to accommodate the calming of her thoughts, regained its speed now that all appeared well and their unusual closeness assaulted his focus. 

Attempting to banish any lingering doubts from his mind, Jack slid his other hand into her hair as he'd intended, letting the strands flow freely through his fingers, mesmerizing him with their raven shine. Phryne nuzzled deeper into his chest; every shiver and the soft moans he coaxed from her lips made something tighten within him, a tangle of affection pulling close so it wouldn't burst in its greatness. Drawing it out a little longer, he ran his fingernails lightly over her scalp and caressed the sensitive back of her neck before finding a quiet rhythm of strokes like whispers. 

When all was quiet save for her deepening breaths and Jack was certain he'd brought her to the verge of dreaming, she pulled gently at his arm on her shoulder and shifted to take his hand in hers. 

“I'll be here, you know. When you wake up.” Her lips pressed the promise into the skin of his hand, but Jack felt it all the way to the center of his soul, in the life pumping through his veins. He squeezed her hand softly in his.

“I know.”

***

When Jack next opened his eyes, it was to the pleasure of Phryne still pressed into his side. They had both turned in their sleep to lie on their backs with her half on top of him, his arm flung around her neck and their fingers intertwined. He’d woken to yellow sunlight tickling his face and Phryne’s soft hair his jaw, and even bone-tired, he held no grudge against the shortened hours of his sleep in the face of what the night had granted him. 

Pushing the warmed sheets aside, he examined their joined hands atop the gentle swell of her breast, her hand looking so delicate in his own, but no less like it belonged there her pale skin harmonizing with his darker tone like his night-blue pyjamas and the brightness of her silk-clad form. 

A subtle knock came on the door and Jack flinched, dropping the covers back into place to protect their fragile secret. He immediately regretted the sudden movement as he felt Phryne’s eyelashes flutter against his skin, but thankfully she didn’t wake. No time remained to cover up further; the door slid open with a click, Mr. Butler crossed the threshold, and Jack did his best not to tense up as his gaze flitted over them. 

“Good morning, Inspector. I’ve pressed your suit.” Much to Jack’s relief, he didn’t even bat an eye at the display before him as though it were the most natural sight in the world; he simply ventured into the room and past them. 

“Thank you, Mr. Butler.” The sleep-rough sound of his voice was met with equal unconcern, but even so he was not used to such casual intimacy, and much less so when the source of the tiny touches and sleepy breaths was none other than Phryne Fisher. It seemed they'd reached a mutual agreement to disregard the way her body was draped over his, pinning him almost innocently to the mattress. 

“No trouble at all, sir,” said Mr. Butler; he was almost through the door before he paused, and the tightness in Jack’s chest flared up all over again. 

“A quick word of caution, sir – Miss Fisher’s father is downstairs. The omelette comes highly recommended by the Baron, but I’ve left a tray by the door, if you desire a simpler breakfast.”

“Of course. Thank you.” Only when Mr. Butler had eased the door closed behind him did Jack allow himself a tiny grateful smile – and he was sure he’d glimpsed the man wearing one of his own when he'd thought himself safely out of sight. 

He felt Phryne stir beside him, then, starting with her fingers tightening around his and beginning a wave of shifts and flexes; she went tense, and then relaxed into bonelessness. He'd forever cherish the moment her tired mind turned clear with recognition and the realization hit to whom the warm body she was presently clinging to belonged. A delighted “Jack!” escaped her lips, small and soft; the naked, smiling wonder of it tickling the skin at his throat where her face was buried. Jack, admittedly, couldn’t help to feel rather pleased with himself.

Stretching languidly, she rolled fully on top of him; the warm rays of sunlight lit her up from behind, threading through her tousled hair and falling to settle on the freckles flung across her shoulders. Her eyes, glazed as they were in a layer of sleep, were no less brilliant in their shine, their only match the grin on her soft pink lips. It was contagious, igniting one of his own. 

“Good morning, Miss Fisher.” Jack's palm had settled instinctively on the small of her back. She arched almost imperceptibly into his hand. Touching a new world into existence – he hadn't thought it'd be so easy. But he felt no discomfort as she studied him, only the overwhelming adoration he saw mirrored in her own eyes. 

“How’s the head?” Her gentle fingers felt unbelievable, running through his hair, cradling his jaw. It had less of a leaping spark than of rolling fires and he let them consume him once and for all. Her thumb traced the smile on his lips, and he gently ran his teeth and tongue along the pad of it, and the soft hitch of her breath soon overwhelmed his senses.

All of a sudden Jack was painfully aware of her breasts pillowed against his chest, the fabric between them an afterthought, lost to the heat of their bodies. She shifted, delicate hips rubbing his; the subsequent hitching of his breath was too loud to ignore tucked between the heavy silence. Their beating hearts were felt rather than heard and the sensation filled all of him, her presence wedged deeply in each of his breaths. 

But she was looking at him expectantly and Jack had to wonder briefly what he'd missed. His head, she'd said – he answered honestly but unsure if she'd catch the deeper meaning.

“Strange. I'd forgotten all about it.” She smiled smugly, shook her head. And how had he been fool enough to doubt it? The remaining distance between their faces she closed by wriggling up his body, emerging close with determined hands on his shoulders and solid softness everywhere else.  _ Oh god.  _ Her lips were on his cheekbone, then, and the movement of her lips seeped right into his blushing skin. 

“If my memory serves me,” she breathed and pressed her tongue briefly to his cheekbone, “you took a nasty blow” – her lips followed her voice along the shell of his ear – “right there.” Through his thick wavy hair she dropped a kiss to the side of his head and lingered there, breathing him in, and took with his scent the last of his calm.

“Mmmh,” Jack hummed in recognition as his eyes threatened to flutter shut. “Must have slipped my mind.” And who could blame him, when there were so much more exciting things to focus on? 

“Phryne.” Her name, like this, was a revelation. The hand that wasn't cupping her back tangled in her hair and pulled gently to move her into position barely a breath away from his face. She didn't pull away; it was frightening as it was thrilling. He had no choice but to lean in for that first all-encompassing kiss. 

To his surprise, it started out fragile with the press of her body purposeful but her lips impossibly tender, with trembling hands held steady on the brink of exploration. They let their desire pool between them, and only at the very edge of drowning did they deepen the kiss. It was impossible to say who moved in first; she sucked his tongue between her lips and he painted her mouth in meticulous strokes, missing none of her warmth and softness, and all the while she rocked against him, which he felt down to his very soul. 

Suddenly grateful for her infuriating attire, he slid his other hand into her camisole, stroking her back, finally feeling her warm velvet skin, happy to let it burn him. Phryne’s own fingers moved to unbutton his shirt and when her mouth abandoned his, it was only to settle at the base of his throat and worship every inch of uncovered skin under lips and tongue. 

One moment, the curve of her smile was on a freckle a few kisses down from the hollow of his throat, brushing the tender skin with exceptional care, and a shaky breath later she’d unearthed enough of him to make him tremble as his nipple was met with her warm wet mouth and the scrape of her teeth. She took her time massaging it with her tongue until he was writhing beneath her and meeting each slow move of her body with one of his own – lacking her grace and control and betraying instead his bone-deep desperation. 

When careful palms finally slid the shirt off his chest and she pulled back to look at him, Jack suddenly felt utterly bereft and disoriented for it. Phryne was right there, sitting on his belly, the globes of her arse so close to his straining cock that even the slightest motion would have rubbed him against the rounded flesh – he was sure she could feel him, the layers of silk of little consequence when he was so painfully aroused it stained his vision. 

On his front he felt her blazing wetness and saw above the soft curves of her breasts; her small tight nipples called to him through the silk and where it gave way to flesh he saw the beautiful flush of desire escaping from her neckline. And more thrilling than it all was the look of raw, breathless joy with which she fixed him from above, surveying the mess she'd made of him and looking rather pleased with herself – as though any more of her remained than gasped-out breaths and trembling fingers resting on his chest. 

“ _ Jack _ -” She was pressing down hard into the muscles of his abdomen, now, eyes falling closed and thighs flexing as she chased his touch the only way she could while he was temporarily stunned into freezing. 

“God, Phryne,” he growled, and she'd been gone a mere heartbeat when he reeled her back in, without so much as an active choice aside from his heart screaming his need for her. Starting from her belly he let his hands drift around to cup her sides, trailing the flare of her hips and the dip of her waist. 

He sensed her pleasure-sharpened eyes watching him watch the way the fabric hitched at his touch and pulled up to admit his palms. With his thumbs splayed out he went higher until met with the bottom curves of her breasts settled against the line formed by his fingers; the gentle force made visible the beautiful pink of her nipples through the almost sheer fabric. 

He slid her camisole up rather than off. Phryne let out a little gasp as he pulled her forward and sucked a nipple into his mouth igniting pebbles beneath his tongue and moans from deep within her. 

The cloth fell in his face, reducing the world to nothing but the feel of her, the warm taste swirling across his tongue, the delicate sobs she made with her back beautifully arched. It was warm in there, the air growing thinner by the second, but drunk as he was on her shaking and her whimpers, Jack didn't have it in him to hold back.

With the eagerness of the starved he drew her breast into the warm prison of his mouth, heard her whimper somewhere above him, distantly, but he was so far gone he couldn't stop; he needed her skin on his tongue and her hard nipple pressed deep into his mouth. 

In her squirming, Phryne moved backward against his cock and as he attempted a gasp his hot lips found only skin. He wouldn't have cared if not for his fingers in her hair, guiding him away and up into the air, sharp and unforgiving next to the smoothness of her flesh. 

He realized she'd been chanting his name, could taste it on her lips as she dragged him away and claimed him with her wanting, searching mouth, making air once more a temporary asset. 

“Phryne?” He asked when she rose again just as he'd lost himself in the complicated dance of their tongues.

“ _ Jack _ .” She pulled her camisole over her head and Jack’s vision cleared in perfect time to catch her emerge with the soft white curves of her breasts pressed into the air, taking his breath away like her breast had in his mouth. He couldn’t think; only watched her upturned face suspended in time. The graceful curl of her eyelashes, her perfect jaw begging for his kiss, and the sweeping outline of her neck. She grinned down at him, reading like an open book the unclad awe on his face. 

When the seconds resumed their safe descent, everything happened at an incredible speed – camisole and knickers flew off the bed and pyjama pants down his legs, trapping him as neither of them possessed thought enough to move them off and away. What mattered, he knew as surely as the thrashing of his blood, were her silken thighs and rough damp curls, first on his belly and then the hard ridge of his cock, painting him in her arousal. Bumping her pearl – and relishing the full-body shudder that minuscule contact had caused as he knew it was him,  _ him _ who'd done that to her – and the length of him brushing by her opening, he was so close to finally filling her, but he knew he couldn't give in just yet. 

“Family planning, Miss Fisher?”  _ Miss Fisher  _ – the safe distance he now needed so as not to let the words spill out. Words of love, of her beauty, words so deep that keeping them in and letting them out were equal to crush his throat, taking his breath away – she let out a soft groan defeat and stretched to reach her bedside drawer, and produced a dark gleaming case. 

Clearly she'd been hoping to prolong the moment; just one more velvet slide, one more and then another until all sinful space between them died away. But Phryne unhooked her legs from around his hips and he used the delicate clarity it granted him to rid himself of his pants. 

Taking her place astride him once more, she came back to ease him into a thorough kiss, letting one hand traverse unseen down his body, her fingertips ghosting the trail of hair that led the way to his heavy cock. She stroked him and he hissed and time stopped as she dipped him into her; and heat rolled through him but left a tiny pocket empty at the back of his mind, too small to think but maybe just enough for the doubts to trickle in, thoughts he'd long harbored that never seemed important to this day because he didn't think they'd  _ be  _ there – and then she moved and buried his fears deep in the slickness of her sex and her face in his neck, breathing her love into his sensitive skin. 

With one hand, she clutched his shoulder and then  _ moved _ , her tissues stretching to welcome him and setting his cock on fire. Her strokes were deep and long and Jack did what he could to meet her, feeling their connection from the shuddering of his muscles beneath her belly to the fingers she pushed into his mouth to drape them with his tongue. 

His throbbing cock was huddled in her blissful heat, the warm wetness of her engulfing all of him. His cells were burning up with the soft push and pull of their bodies; her movements came so slow he felt every tiniest drag of her around him, and vibrating in his chest was the resonance of her moans. He would’ve happily dissolved under the weight of her, crumbled into nothing but what she needed him to be. But then her damp fingers grazed his nipple and her tongue filled his mouth and she was grounding him in the triad of sensation and where she couldn’t be were her hums and moans. 

“I need  _ more _ , Phryne,” he whispered, trembling, and she trailed a shaky hand down his cheek and her eyes broke him with their adoration. 

“Take whatever you need, Jack.” Her voice was so soft and her lips sucked his jaw and neck but then he did it – he grasped her hips and pushed her up, urging her to move in earnest and arching his hips to meet her thrusts. Her breasts bounced before his face and inside her he was rock-solid, pulsing,  _ deep _ . She rose and fell and shuddered with each shared lunge. 

White heat made him work harder, his whole body clenching as their rhythm went awry and helpless jerks took the place of thorough strokes. Her fingers came down to roughly work her clit and Jack laced them with his own, and she ground down on their cuddled hands and his cock until he was nothing more than scattered limbs and all of them were ruled by Phryne. Until together they left the shore and drowned themselves in sweet release.

***

If Phryne’s grin before had been a sparkling star, the one ignited by having him naked in her arms was enough to chase the sun. She was beside him on her stomach, legs dangling in the air; this open joy he’d never seen and he embraced its newfound treasure, like he knew even with all his might he’d be too weak to resist its pull, like he couldn’t see why he’d want to. 

But there remained one thought that refused to quiet. It was the strangeness of the time resuming as it always did. The world continued to spin on its axis, smiling proudly, privately to itself – after all, it had guided them to this moment, a shared unfurling of time, and Jack couldn’t help but smile with it. 

His gaze came down from the ceiling, landing on Phryne, watching him, her face cradled in the pillow of her hand. She was amused, he could tell, but for the moment content to leave him to his thoughts, perhaps sensing that he needed them. But in the sun coming out to caress the contours of her naked body, Jack found the courage to continue on. 

“Do you want breakfast?” He asked and rolled over, then wrapped himself in Phryne’s thin blanket, the one in which she’d almost spent the night. It had shaped a path between the window and the bed, the same she’d taken and after her the shining rays. 

“Jack Robinson, are you offering to cook for me? I must have made quite an impression.” And oh, she had, but he turned by the door and smiled with his eyes before presenting from behind it what he knew he’d find, internally thanking Mr. Butler. 

“How grand of you, Inspector!” The silver platter carried butter and toast, a pot, and two delicate cups waiting to hold their coffee. Jack set it on the edge of the bed and joined her there after the blanket had found again its assigned position, discarded on the floor. With them both on their front, she leaned into his side – she felt, somehow, even warmer and softer than she had the previous night. What one might have seen as upbeat innocence, Jack recognized for what it was; he wasn’t surprised in the slightest as she snatched from him his freshly buttered toast, taking a crumbly bite with her eyes sparkling, but she swallowed with it her airy mood. 

“Shall we try for supper again, tonight? There’ll be no unexpected guests this time. Just you.” 

He could barely gain control over his skipping heart, but the vividness of her eyes so close on his face had no other story to tell than the fragile truths he found barely hidden in her carefully chosen speech.

“Are you certain it’s what you want?”

“Yes, Jack, I am. Perhaps you could head home and pack a bag after you’ve finished at the station?” 

“It would be my pleasure,” he said, and allowed himself for the first time in their exchange a tiny smile, which Phryne caught and multiplied tenfold, and a soft kiss was shared to seal their promise.

**Author's Note:**

> This was intended as two chapters but my AO3 never lets me edit existing fics, meaning that I wouldn't have been able to change the rating later on after adding the smut, so I guess this is just long now, lmao. Thank you for reading! <3


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